


Motorcycle Drive-by

by thatotherperv



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: Angst, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Experimentation, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-15
Updated: 2008-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-26 19:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatotherperv/pseuds/thatotherperv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just your average boy-meets-boy.  The beginning of a beautiful friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Motorcycle Drive-by

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from 3EB's song of the same name. I tried to keep the timing generally true to life, but I fudged it in places. Notably, I fudged Jensen's timing on Smallville by like 3 years.
> 
> also, this pops my rps cherry. crazy, huh? appearances by David Boreanaz, Nicholas Brenden, and the usual cw suspects
> 
> Original post [here](http://thatotherperv.livejournal.com/207749.html)

First time Chris ever laid eyes on Jensen, he was standing alone in the corner of some bullshit networking orgy that Hollywood called a party. His shirt was, hand-to-God, a denim button-down two shades darker than his ranch-fit jeans and how a goddamn _model_ thought that was alright, he'd never know.

Except all Chris knew about the kid right then was that he was _fresh meat_. None fresher. Eighteen if he was even fuckin' legal, with the dust of whatever piddleshit town he'd rode in from practically clinging to his clothes.

He was shy but unguarded, eyes so naked it hurt to look at'im, smile hopeful and hesitant every time someone looked his way.

He'd wash up in a week.

Chris hadn't been here all that long but he wasn't no Girl Scout when he arrived, and he learned quick. Somebody was gonna run that kid through the meat grinder till there was nothing left.

It wasn't his problem, that was the only way to stay sane about it. He turned away and forgot about it.

  


* * *

Second time Chris laid eyes on Jensen was in auditions. The location wasn't a surprise…LA was a small fuckin' town when you got down to it, and your options got smaller if you hadn't shook your accent, so. More of a surprise that the kid stuck around, really, than it was to see him here.

He didn't look up from his stack of paper when Chris threw himself into the next seat, just politely shuffled his leg away and pretended he wasn't side-eyeing the jackass that'd elbowed him in the ribs. His fashion sense had improved a little by Christian's reckoning, but the reading glasses didn't inspire much fear, and he was reading _notes_ on the part, for Christ sakes. As if the speaking lines weren't gonna get left on the cutting floor.

He stuck his hand out and grinned until the kid turned his way and took it.

"Chris."

"Jensen."

"Whatcha got there, Jensen?"

Color crept up as he angled his notes out of plain view. "Oh uh…nothin', I was just. Preparing for the, you know…."

He returned the tight, crooked smile with an easy laugh. "Hell, it ain't rocket science."

Jensen's eyes jerked away, embarrassment layered over anger. A little pride in this one. "Yeah…."

"Aw, don't be that way, I'm just teasin'." Chris bumped his shoulder. "I remember seein' you at a party a ways back…had any luck getting work since you been here?"

"Yeah…." He started to say something, and thought better of it. "Yeah," he repeated.

"Well alright. Good." Silence. Jensen stared at Chris's right knee. Chris tapped out a restless rhythm on his thigh and huffed out a laugh. "Well shit, if you're gonna talk my ear off…."

"Jensen Ackles?"

The boy started and his eyes went wide and stunned like pretty girls with clipboards were his very worst nightmare. He rubbed his palms nervously against his jeans before he launched himself out of his seat. "That's me."

She smiled the thin smile of someone too important to pamper nervousness. "Alright, come on back."

"Hey, good luck, man."

Jensen looked back like he'd forgotten Chris was there. "Oh. Thanks. You too!"

Hell of it was, Chris was pretty sure he meant that. Kid was too nice for this town.

  


* * *

"Darlin', we have _got_ to stop meetin' like this."

The beat-dog cringe slipped away as soon as Jensen looked up and saw it was him, though what Chris had done to engender such relief, he didn't know. "Hey."

"Your enthusiasm overwhelms me." He got a shy laugh at that, grinned as he collapsed into the seat one down. "Your agent?"

"Yeah."

"Mine too. Bitch, ain't she?"

Smile like that could injure a man. "She's…." Jensen shrugged and looked away.

"You know, I figure by the fourth, fifth time we run into one another, you'll be able to string _two_ words together. Maybe even three."

Color stained the apples of his cheeks as he leaned forward and stared at his hands. "I'm not _that_ bad." He slid a smile back over his shoulder and laughed.

Chris grinned. "Damn near. You'll just have to prove different." He debated for about three seconds. "Listen…you legal?"

Like a switch, all the warmth on Jensen's face vanished, body leaning away just so. Chris hadn't been wrong then, about the sharks. Damn city. Jensen hadn't turned tail though, just got a little older. Good for him.

"Naw, man, I didn't mean…." He cleared his throat, gone dry. "I was just thinkin', you look young as hell but if you're 18, you can come out with some friends of mine tonight. Sneak a few in you and see if we can't get you chatty."

Jensen stared at him for a long time, until Chris was about ready to take back the offer. His eyes unshuttered just enough before he looked away, voice soft. "Yeah, I'd like that."

  


* * *

Jensen'd never been to a strip joint before, which was exactly the wrong thing to say around Dave and Nicky. Dave made Christian look like a Southern gentlemen and that's no lie.

 _Skin_ charged $25 at the door for anyone too young to run up a tab, but they told the pretty little thing behind the counter that it was Jensen's eighteenth and they were poppin' his cherry. She took their money but the stamp missed the inkpad by an inch before it hit the back of Jen's hand.

From his blush you'd think Jensen'd never seen tits much less a tittie bar, and Dave being Dave, they were front and center. The boy'd need his mouth to hang open for it to be a full-on gape, but it was close enough to amuse the hell out of Dave. Christian was pretty sure he was gearing up to be a full-on bastard tonight, but he wasn't Jensen's daddy and well, that was Dave. Take it or leave it.

Dave leaned back, cracked his knuckles and signaled a bar girl. "What'll you have, Jensen? You _do_ drink, don't you?"

The kid's eyebrows bunched together and he laughed. "Dude, I'm from Texas."

Dave's grin had a nasty edge, and Chris saw him coming a mile off. "Texas, huh? Steers an—"

"That mean you're drinkin' Shiner with me?"

Jensen's smile was too precious to live, really. "That'd be great, yeah."

"This bastard drinks import. Been too long since someone with taste came along."

Jensen grinned crooked, eyes straying to the stage before making their way back to Dave, grab-assing their laughing waitress. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Chris was starting to feel like he'd led a spring lamb straight towards a pack of wolves.

And Dave just couldn't resist proving him right. "So, Jensen." His eyes were sly as they gave a slow once-over. "Drive stick?"

Nick barked a laugh and Jensen frowned, eyes sliding to Chris. He was all set to jump in with a sharp boot and a line about Dave being a car buff when Jensen smiled at him real sweet, full of down-home drawl.

"Well, I dunno, Dave. You suck cock?"

If Chris had a camera, he coulda been a millionaire.

  


* * *

After that, Jensen took to Chris's life like a duck to water. Slid right on in, loosened up, and everybody liked him well enough and a whole lot more once they caught on to the wicked sense of humor he kept locked up tight around company. He kept Dave in his place without breaking a sweat, which was enough to endear him to damn near everyone who knew the mouthy bastard.

Boy hadn't exactly been a rebel back home, which made him damn near a priest in these parts. Chris did his level best to set _that_ right in a hurry. Taught him how to pack a bowl, tip the strippers, and tried to get him laid on occasion. Jensen accepted most of it with the type of solemn concentration boy reserved for learning a role, and after a while Chris got the feeling he was just coaching Jensen into another character: Jensen Ackles, young Hollywood…and all that was expected to entail.

  


* * *

Jensen was already a regular on _Days_ by the time he moved in with Chris. He'd been running with them a while at that point and Chris was in need since Matt was fucking off home with his tail between his legs, done chasing the dream.

Jen was better company anyway. Didn't spill bong water all over the couch, for one. For two, he had a steady paycheck, which was damn handy because Chris was hovering at the poverty line. Never bitched about their lives being one long party either, though Chris knew he'd just as soon keep to himself.

He'd never say it, but _Days_ was killin' him. Most people got run down by failure, but not Jensen…he was done in by success. Filming was relentless, and he hated his costars; he could kiss anonymity goodbye. Daytime TV wasn't exactly big league, but it was big enough that Jen got recognized more than he'd like. Everyone had an opinion, and it got to where they avoided any location that might drum up the foot-traffic of cabin-crazy housewives. Jen had learned how to turn it on. Be charming and polite and just what a golden boy should be, but it was plain to see that he hated it.

Chris came to know three Jensens, living together.

There was industry Jensen. Industry Jensen loved apple pie and polite pussy, worked hard, was quick to tease but never offend, and if he overshot smooth straight into suave, you could forgive him because he was so darn good-looking. He made Chris wanna yark but he got the job done, and if the suits were lucky, it was industry Jensen showed up in public. Because the alternative was a train wreck in slow motion. He mumbled and blushed and made no damn sense, neither here nor there.

Around their buddies, Jensen was trouble. Never the bad kind, just the fun kind. He was quick to shoot off at the mouth with things that'd make his mama blush. He was a little defensive and a lot hard-headed. He drank, he smoked. Laughed loud, smiled wicked, played hard and pranked rough. He was damn civilized compared to some of the monkeys they kept around, but he wasn't fit to be shared with company, either.

And then there was…Jensen. The Jensen Chris only got when the house was quiet and the music was mellow and neither of them had a damn place to be. That Jensen spoke soft and confident, when he spoke at all. His laugh was warm and lazy, and his smile was slow. He was unvarnished, harbored no secrets, and he trusted Chris implicitly. Barefoot and happy and simple to be around, he was Chris's favorite, bar none.

  


* * *

The sun was comin' up by the time Chris kicked the last losers out to the curb and told 'em to get on home. It was comin' on summer, and they'd been celebrating. Dave got picked up for a spin-off and it looked like Chris was gonna be right there with him. Prospect of steady work was cause for a drink or twelve, even if the damn thing ended up cancelled before it hit the ground running.

Jen was on the deck, staring out at the lightening horizon, letting a good cigarette go to waste burning towards his fingertips. His eyes flicked to Chris as he threw himself down across the table, snatched up the pack and lit one.

"Everybody gone?"

Chris nodded, inhaled, tipped his hat back to scratch at his forehead. His tongue was just loose enough to bring up what he otherwise wouldn't. "Angie left early."

Jensen's eyes traced the tree line. "Yeah, she had a thing."

"A thing. That's fascinating." Jen threw him a bitchy little look, but he paid it no mind. "She's cute."

Jen gave up on his cigarette, stubbed it out. "Yeah."

"Pretty fuckin awesome, actually. Smart as hell, _and_ she kicked Dave's ass at Madden. He was a little smitten, not that she'd look twice."

Jensen snorted. "That's because she has taste."

"You're real modest, son."

"Say what you're gonna say, Chris."

"That girl's into you, man. Hardcore. Looks at you like you hung the moon."

Jensen leaned forward, hand scrubbing guilty on the back of his neck. "Yeah. Yeah, Chris, I know. What's your point?"

"Point is, you don't return the favor."

"Man, I adore that girl."

"Never said you didn't."

He wasn't gonna beat it over the head. Jensen wasn't stupid, and he didn't believe Chris was, either. Jen might touch her like spun glass, but he looked guilty around the eyes more than Chris would like these days.

He turned those guilty eyes off Chris's frank look, lit up another and looked real busy.

They sat a piece. Sun broke the treetops and made them squint, but they were too tired to haul their asses inside to bed, and right here felt fine. They'd passed a lot of mornings this way. Had a lot of talks this way. Jen had dated a lot of girls this way and Chris never said a word, but somehow this was different and he wasn't sure why.

"It ain't fair, Jen."

"Leave it, Chris."

"I don't think I will."

"What do you want from me?"

"I dunno, man. Maybe for you to be honest with yourself for five goddamn minutes."

The patio chair creaked against the deck as Jen shifted. "'M honest with myself."

"Then how 'bout sharing with the rest of the class?" Jen said nothing. Chris didn't really expect him to. "It's not gonna be as bad as you think it is. Brave new world. Worse things."

"Worse things than what, exactly," Jen murmured.

"Than being a little bent. Than people finding out." And there it was, out in the open. And nobody was bleeding.

Jensen huffed out a small laugh. "Yeah. There's what comes after."

"This ain't Richardson, Jen."

"No, it's worse. Least there, you didn't get all this PC _bullshit_ while they're calling you a fag. Hard enough getting somebody to take me seriously. Bad enough typecast as a—"

"Pretty boy? Cry me a river, darlin'."

"Fuck off."

"Pretty ain't a liability in this town, so quit your cryin'."

"Yeah, well. Looks that way from where I'm standing."

And that goddamn tore it. "Then look again, motherfucker. That face got you in the door your first week. First time out the gate. Plenty of us mere good-looking bastards had to wait a sight longer. I know your mama would beat you senseless for acting like a hard-luck case."

"Chris…."

Something in his tone made Chris ease up, speak softer. This was _Jen_. He might be an idiot, but he was good people. "Don't matter how you got there, and it don't matter what they expect. You learn how to play the game and run the goddamn table." He studied the duck of Jensen's head. "Do what you gotta do until then, man. Play it straight, date chicks, be the goddamn poster boy, but don't fuck with that girl."

Jensen leaned back and closed his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

  


* * *

Jensen landed _Smallville_ the same year Chris left _Angel_ and started getting serious about Kane. Steve moved into Jen's old room. Jen moved up to Vancouver and started fucking Superman.

He blushed twelve shades of red whenever Chris said that. He blushed three more when Chris told him it was about damn time he lost his ass-cherry.

Jen sounded happy whenever Chris heard from him. He loved the work and he loved the cast and he loved the crew and he loved Tom. He didn't love the cold, but Chris told him you couldn't love every-fucking-thing or they'd give you pigtails and call you Pollyanna.

  


* * *

Thing about LA is that everyone just runs in circles, mostly. Things seem bound to come back around to the way things used to be, so it wasn't that shocking when Jen moved back to LA, Chris went back on _Angel_ , and they all ended up in the same old house, doing the same old shit.

Tom had gone the way of the dodo but no pretty little girl replaced him, and for a while Chris got Jensen all to himself. He'd never admit how much he'd missed that. Jen stayed at his place, crashing on the couch or wherever he landed, and Steve still paid rent but he was making himself scarce these days. He had a new girl but sometimes Chris got the impression he had other motives.

It was the same old Jensen and the same old Chris, but somehow, they were different. Jen stopped looking at Chris like a hero and started looking at him like a man.

Chris was maybe the only one that was surprised when they started fucking.

  


* * *

Jen tasted like beer and pot and something earthy. Sometimes come, sometimes sweat. Things like that. They weren't the morning-honey type, so Chris never got him toothpaste-fresh. Mostly it was a detour from dirtier things, and Jensen to him always tasted a little like sin.

He didn't kiss the way Chris expected…not that he'd expected anything. Not that he'd thought about it. But a man expected people to kiss the way they live. The way they think. The Jensen that kissed him wasn't any Jensen Chris knew, except it _was_. It was every side of Jensen he'd ever seen and a few he'd never had the foresight to imagine. There was a kind of measured recklessness. A little bit wholesome, a little obscene. Inevitable as the fuckin' tide. He aimed to please, and Lord, he learned fast. Chris never stood a goddamn chance.

And Chris didn't expect it, but maybe he'd been asking for it. You could only push a man so far, and Christ knew he'd been pushing. Long as he'd known Jen he'd been needling him but this had purpose and direction and force.

So when Jensen shoved him into the wall next to the bathroom, he wasn't _really_ all that surprised.

There was one moment that stuck with Chris long after the other details blurred. Chris's back jarred against the drywall so hard his teeth clacked and Jen's body followed and just before their lips caught, Chris saw Jensen. Jensen, frustrated and terrified and not at all sure he wasn't about to fuck everything all to hell. Fuck _them_ beyond all repair. And God knew Chris was not the voice of experience in this particular area and God knew he had his doubts that he actually wanted what he'd been aiming for, but it was Jensen. And it was instinct, to be the one to stay the course and smooth Jen's way.

So he did.

It wasn't all that different from how they'd always been, when you got down to it, and Chris had never been the type to overthink it. Fucked first and asked questions later and even then, they ended up being the wrong ones. Fall turned to spring and barreled on towards summer, and Jensen stayed. They laughed and fucked and drank and smoked and alright, sometimes necked like teenagers, as time got on. And Chris didn't think about it overmuch, when he thought about it at all.

 _Jen_ had always been the thinker, but…well…Chris didn't think about that.

  


* * *

The best thing about Jensen in the sack wasn't his mouth, though Christ knew Chris coulda written a ballad or two about that alone. A couple really filthy ones.

Naw, best thing was his hands.

Chris hadn't respected the handjob since he started sticking his dick in other places. It was supposed to be something you settled for, but with Jensen, it was a fuckin' _art_ form. Jen could make Chris _beg_ with those hands. Those fingers, around him and on him and _in_ him.

Bastard enjoyed it, too. Enjoyed reducing Chris to an unnatural whine, keeping him there till his throat was fucked out and raw even before he finished Jensen off.

And Jensen loved his mouth. Liked it when Chris talked dirty and liked it more when he couldn't talk at all. Liked Chris on his knees, and Chris never would understand it, but he liked being there. A Lot.

But he had to save face, because this was Jensen. So he coughed and scowled and bitched. "Next time I'm gonna be down there a while let's throw me a pillow, how 'bout that? I'm too old for this shit."

Jen just laughed and pulled him up and kissed the hell out of him. It was almost enough to make a man forgive him when he smirked and opened his fool mouth and said something like

"Cry me a river, darlin'."

"That's my line, bitch." It'd have more credibility if he didn't sound sleepy.

"Serves you right." Jensen moaned and stretched, scratched his belly. "Goddamn, I love this bed."

"Beats the hell out of trailers and hotel rooms, I'll guarantee you that. You'll miss it when you're gone."

Jensen grunted and rolled.

"You hear back from that guy yet? The part you wanted?"

"Yeah." He yawned and would have drifted if Chris hadn't delivered a sharp jab to his side. "OW! Mother _fucker_."

"What did he say?"

"I didn't get Sam."

"Damn, man. I'm sorry."

"They offered me the brother, though."

"Is that a fact?"

"Shut up, you smug bastard."

"I can't help if I'm always right. Dean beats that whiny little bitch any day of the week. When do they wanna start?"

Jensen's eyes remained suspiciously closed, and it was a mite too casual. "I haven’t told them I'm taking it yet. I don't think I'm gonna."

Chris stared. "What the fuck, man."

"I just need to think about it."

"Nothin' to think about, Jen. This isn't a bit part or a one-arc asshole. This is you carrying a show."

"Dean's not the central figure."

"Oh fuck off, it's two guys in a car. What central figure." Jen propped himself up on his elbows, scrubbing at his face irritably. Chris dropped his voice. "C'mon man, you were stoked about the script. You not like the guy they cast as Sam?"

"No, that's not it, I just." His eyes paced along the wall. "I was thinking about trying to find something around here. I don't wanna go back to Vancouver."

"You loved Vancouver."

He got no response, and Jensen still wouldn't look his way. He looked tense and fidgety, but like he was trying to hide it. A big ball of ugly started to knot up in Chris's gut.

"You're not." He spit it, quiet like the thought tasted bad in his mouth. Jensen flinched a little, and the fact that he even understood was incriminating enough. "Fuck, Jensen, you are _not_."

When Jensen finally turned he had that pig-headed look he got about him sometimes. "Why not? Is it so crazy?"

"It sure as hell is. This ain't serious like that, Jensen."

"Could be."

"Not for me it couldn't." His chest felt all tight, like he couldn't breathe. When the hell had _this_ happened? "We were just. Fuckin' around. Nothin' changed. Jesus, y'ain't my girlfriend, and you're not gonna throw your life out the window just cuz we were horny."

Jensen stared, even as Chris sat up. "You have _got_ to be shitting me."

"Not even a little bit."

Jensen looked like he was trying to wrap his head around somethin', and then it was gone and he just looked like he knew too much, and that was the easiest brush-off Chris had ever given. Because they didn't do romance but they didn't do heartbreak either, and Chris was so busy fucking his buddy that he forgot he was fucking the one guy who had his number, who knew all his shit and didn't begrudge him for a second. You couldn't hide from someone like that, and Chris guessed you couldn't really surprise them either.

It was a hell of a situation.

But Chris had Jensen's number too, and for the first time it occurred to him that to Jen, this probably wasn't just fucking.

His mouth got all dry.

"You should go," he said, and he was a little surprised it came out so level. "It's good for your career, man, I feel it. This is the one." And that, at least, was no lie.

Just like that, the subject was closed with no hysterics, and Jensen lay back, no longer touching. "Yeah, I guess I should."

They didn't speak again for two years.

  


* * *

It wasn't like the movies. There was no montage to a sad, sad song where Chris went weeks without a shave and drank too much beer alone, empties strewn around a dark apartment. Without Jensen, Chris did just fine and always had. Same party, different day, with a lot of old faces and a whole lot of new ones.

Life was sweet. Kane was really takin' off and he took a couple fun roles that kept him in whiskey. A guitar and some camera time and a few drinks between friends, that was pretty much all Chris needed in the day-to-day, and it's not like he woulda seen Jen much anyway, their schedules.

He couldn't quite convince himself that the knot of guilt and shame and sick that lodged itself in his throat was normal though. Not when it came from picking up the phone to call his best goddamn friend. He never hit send.

There were many wouldn't dare breathe a word about it, but Steve never missed a chance to volunteer that Chris was both a coward and a moron, and mostly, he couldn't disagree.

They were touring England when it all snapped into place. They were _on_ that night and the crowd was awesome, and there were people halfway around the world that knew lyrics he and Steve had written on a quiet Sunday in their damn backyard. It was enough to give a man a complex, and it was Jensen's voice Chris heard knocking him down a few pegs.

And just like that, he knew there was no good reason Jen wasn't here, doing that and celebrating with them after.

This time he hit the little green button instead of the red one. Said "You got couches up there in the arctic?" and Jen laughed, never missing a beat. Told him to come on, and bring his mittens.

Just that easy.

  


* * *

Jen's costar was tall and broad and awkward and it was damn reminiscent of another show and another guy, down to the vibe that zinged between them. The shorthand talk and the looks and the ease. And Chris thought, hell, Jen does have a type. And it wasn't anything like him.

He couldn't hold it against Jared though. There was a whole list of reasons, not the least of which, he had no right. But also Jared was cool as hell and kept Jen out of his head and if Chris was a little jealous that Jared got Jensen number three when that had always been his, he'd never say.

So they drank and goofed and told embarrassing stories. Went out and got a little rowdy, stayed in and got a little mellow. Bitched about being thin-blooded at the North Freakin' Pole and swapped stories about Texas heat. A week went by like nothin', and goddamn but Jensen had a good thing going here. It made something proud burn hot in Chris's chest, and he couldn't keep it out of his voice when he said

"I practically _raised_ this boy." No embarrassment attached, because they were more than a little drunk and hell, it was true. But he couldn't keep the drawl and the tease out. "Raised you up from a sweet lil thing, didn't I?"

And Jared brayed like a donkey but Jen just smiled, the slow warm one, Chris's favorite. And all the sorry was there between them they'd never say. "Yeah, I guess you did. Raised me up right, you old goat."

The very last worry loosened up in Chris's chest. That was the end of it. And the next day, he went home smiling.


End file.
